


Thirty Kisses

by sabinelagrande



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Community: 30_kisses, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 8,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirty chances for Spike and Faye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Judas: Act I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU version of Ballad of Fallen Angels.

They'd told her to keep quiet, but Vicious didn't seem to care. She studied him out of the corner of her eye as he talked to her. Even his voice suggested that he lived up to his name. He outlined his plan carefully, calmly, coldly. She nodded, her gaze flicking back to the stage when she saw him looking at her. It was simple, it was brutal, it would work. It would have to work, or… she'd trained herself not to think about things like that.

Faye ran out of the church to meet him, almost tripping down the steps. She was crying, her makeup running down her face, her dress almost in shreds.

"Spike, thank God you came," she said, throwing herself onto him.

"I'm not here for-" Spike was cut off by Faye's lips. It threw him off for a half second, but that was all they needed. Two sets of massive arms grabbed his. Faye stepped back, wiping the tears and the kiss away.

Vicious walked down out of the church. Spike noted with a weird sense of pride that Faye shifted away from him when he slipped his arm around her waist.

"'You shall meet a woman,'" he quoted, almost laughing. "'And you shall be targeted by that woman, and death.' Again. What did it get you? The standard 30 pieces of silver?"

"Three hundred million woolongs," Vicious answered for her. Spike whistled in mock appreciation.

Vicious led her away as the thugs began to lay into Spike. Her hand came up to her face, and she realized that, this time, the tears were real.


	2. Seguedille et Duo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romani girls are the most talented in the whole solar system.

Faye knew she could get out of the handcuffs, but it was going to take some doing. She couldn't well try while the fuzzy headed one was still around, even if he didn't seem to be paying any attention.

"Psst."

Spike kept his eyes on the television. She was talking again.

"Hey, look over here."

He didn't look. He didn't give a damn unless she was trying to escape.

"Look over here!"

"I heard you the first time," Spike grumbled.

"Aren't you tired of this busted old wreck of a ship?" Faye asked him. "You and me, gorgio, we could make a good pair."

"Don't you ever shut up?" Spike retorted.

A few silent minutes passed. Faye decided to try a new tack. "You know," she said, her voice dropping dangerously, "Romani girls are the most," she laughed slightly, "talented in the whole solar system. If you let me go, maybe we could go back to your room, have a drink, and…"

At that, Spike switched off the television. He stalked across the floor and stood over her. Without warning, he grabbed her, pulling them together and causing the handcuffs to bite painfully at her wrists. He crushed his mouth to hers, invading her with his tongue.

Faye came back to herself after a moment and gave as good as she got. She thought she was getting the upper hand when a hand snaked up and grabbed her breast. Her nipples immediately betrayed her.

Spike released her as suddenly as he had taken her. He stared hard at Faye, sizing her up.

"I've had better," he said lightly, and walked out. He smirked at her frantic cursing as he made his way to the control room.


	3. Cigarette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cigarette smoke really is blue.

Cigarette smoke really is blue.

She's never thought about it. It's the kind of thing you hear in old earth movies, or in the kind of music Jet likes. A tired old romantic cliché, the sort of thing you say when you're all out of ideas.

But she watches the smoke curl around his head, and in the darkness, it is blue. It wreathes his face, reaching up to kiss his hair before rising into nothingness. And it is beautiful. It is perfect.

She wishes then that she were smoke, that she could get that close. To envelop him, run her fingers up into his hair, leave her trace on him wherever he goes. To be that right, that perfect with him. Perfect blue.


	4. In Medias Res

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very unlikely occurence.

Faye traced one hand down Julia's neck to the zipper of her catsuit. She tugged it down over the blonde's curvaceous form. Faye let her hands roam everywhere, her long fingers finally coming to rest on Julia's breasts.

Suddenly, Julia flipped Faye over onto her back, straddling her and making short work of her top. She started at the hollow of her neck and kissed her way down Faye's body, stopping to bite at her nipples before easing off Faye's suspenders and shorts.

While Julia continued at her task, Faye pulled Spike in by his tie, kissing him deeply and helping him out of his clothes with her accessible hand. Now naked, he lay down on the bed beside her. Spike ran a hand through Julia's hair before lowering his head to Faye's chest.

"Are you ever going to wake up?" Faye suddenly barked at him. His eyes shot open. She was standing over him, alone, fully clothed.

"You couldn't give me ten more minutes?" Spike groaned.

"Get up. We haven't got time for you to lay around dreaming about me all day," Faye said flippantly as she left, just missing the loud bang of Spike's head hitting the wall.


	5. Looking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...the half conscious babble of a heat-addled brain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place shortly after Jupiter Jazz Part II.

He sits two inches from her, two inches that to her are worse than two miles. Miles she might take some comfort in; inches she cannot bear.

It is hot. It is always hot, it seems, with the air conditioner breaking down every time someone breathes wrong. His head hangs over the back of the couch, waving languidly from time to time to try and catch phantom breezes.

Her hose are long discarded, lying on the back of the chair. Every once in a while, one of Spike's phantom breezes catches one, sending it swaying and spinning slightly.

Except Faye doesn't notice any of this, except for the godforsaken vacuum between her and Spike. In her mind it is cold, very cold. A light snow is falling on Callisto, the place where her mind seems to live these days. But she does that, finds her home in places her mind should leave. She traces her way up the stairs to Gren's apartment, untouched, empty, half the lights still on.

She's looking for Julia- but it's not Julia she's after. She's looking for Julia because she holds Spike. She figured that one out all on her own. Maybe she doesn't even know that she knows, but she keeps looking.

All her life, that she can remember, she's been looking. Something strange with her memory, something she can't quite understand, all this looking. Maybe it's insulation, keeping her mind and her body separate. Maybe it's that she still wants a home. Maybe it's not even true, the half conscious babble of a heat-addled brain. No matter. She is on Callisto now.

Until Spike moves again, and she's jarred back. He's closer now, another half an inch and a couple million miles. And it's so very hot that she shivers. A bead of sweat rolls down Spike's neck and into his shirt, and Faye wishes in that instant that she was there.

He's just staring at the ceiling, past the ceiling, off into nothingness. And in the corners of a jealous mind Faye thinks she knows what he is seeing. Julia, all Julia. She must be in Faye's mind as often as Spike's these days. And for a split second, Faye wishes she were Julia, that she were hunted, not hunting.

Spike gets up slowly, and in moving, his hand comes to rest on her leg. Only it's not really resting at all. It is the slow drag, the rough kiss of damp skin on damp skin. And it burns, more than she thought was possible.


	6. Seeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...the half conscious babble of a heat-addled brain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion to "Looking".

He is staring at the ceiling, but that's not what he wants to see. He knows if he just stares long enough, the world will fade away. He'll fall into the slip, and he can close his real eye and see where he wants to be. See her in a fancy hotel room bought with somebody else's money, blonde hair splayed over the pillow and her laughing.

But that's not what he's seeing. His mind is hung up; he cannot fall like he wants. Faye is distracting, yes, but that's just an excuse. Well, it approaches the real reason, but it's still an excuse.

Spike is too busy thinking, not seeing today. The heat makes him think, makes him hunt for the faintest respite, ties him back to where he is. Faye makes him think, damp fabric of her clothes clinging even more than usual. He can hear the clank far off of Jet trying to fix the cooling system, Ed singing some pretty nonsense, a bark every so often. All of it holds him back, keeps him from falling. So he cannot choose but think.

His loyalty always was his greatest curse. He is still bound to Julia, to Vicious, to the completion of their story. But he is bound to Jet, to Ed, to VT, and, as it almost pains him to admit, he is bound to Faye. He is chained, and chained, and chained again, caught in a net of his own creation.

And when he pulls, it only gets tighter. The better part of him wants to cut and run, to find Julia at all costs. But he can't do that; he can't leave Jet and Faye. Churning, dark thoughts about Faye whisper in and kiss his mind, the kind of thoughts she'd slap him and love him for having. But he can't do that; he can't betray Julia.

All he has is that place, the world behind his false eye, the past bottled up. Nothing binds him there; he comes and leaves as he pleases.

He gets up, so lost in thought that he doesn't even notice when he touches Faye. If he can't see, he'll sleep. It's the next best thing.


	7. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faye catches Spike sneaking around in her room.

It was a quest for cigarettes that drove him into Faye's room. His supply had run out. He searched her room carefully, feeling behind her bureau for any hidden cache.

He teased out a pack, but it only held three cigarettes. Into the jacket it went, but he kept looking. Spike's fingers closed over what seemed to be a small flat box. Eagerly, he pulled it out. No luck. The cheery lettering down the side proudly proclaimed that it was Wada Calcium CD3. The prescription label stated that one Faye Valentine should take one tablet three times daily. From the dust that had accrued on the box's surface, one Faye Valentine was doing nothing of the sort.

However, from the sound, one Faye Valentine had just stepped into her room. Spike palmed a pill from the box.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Faye screeched at Spike.

"What're these for, anyway?" Spike asked, waving the box at her.

Unconsciously, Faye brought her hand up to massage her wrist. "The doctor proscribed them after I was unfrozen, not that it's any of your business," she replied.

"Then why haven't you been taking them?" Spike asked.

"I said it's none of your goddamn business!" Faye shouted. "Why the hell were you looking behind my dresser?"

Spike was losing her. He slipped the pill into his mouth as inconspicuously as possible. He took Faye in his arms with sudden tenderness. He gently kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue and slipping the tablet into her mouth. After he was certain it had dissolved, he pulled back.

"Take your medicine," Spike told her, then turned and walked out the door. For once, Faye was speechless.

Spike started off in a nonchalant trot that quickly turned into a run. With any luck, she wouldn't even realize what had happened until he was safely locked in his room.


	8. Protocol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another boring night passes.

The night was turning out like every night turned out. It was late, or, at least, it felt late. The television had long since ceased to be entertaining. Jet had already gone to sleep after a long chat with his banzai. Ed had been in her room since supper, doing something on her computer.

Their informal protocol demanded that Spike would get up next, stretch, yawn, and go to bed. Then Faye would turn off the lights, check to make sure no alarms were sounding in the control room, then go to her room.

And, true to form, Spike got up, stretched, yawned, and went off to his room. Faye lay herself down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. This life was so boring some times. She supposed that she ought to be thankful for it, given the mad rush they were usually in. But it just wasn't her style to relax.

She swung her legs down to the floor and stood up. Dutifully, she turned out the lights and went up to the control room. Prosaic as ever. Her trained feet led her back to her door, but her hand stopped over the knob. She walked back down the hallway, stopping in front of the door to Spike's room.

Their unspoken law said that she wouldn't knock, wouldn't go in, wouldn't try to kiss him or touch him or anything else. There was a barrier there. To try anything on Spike was just out of the question. But as she stood there, she couldn't for the life of her remember if the barrier was his or hers. And the more she pondered that, the more she wondered why she should care about anybody's rules, especially her own.

She brought her hand up and knocked. After a pause, Spike appeared, shirtless, hair mussed. Faye stepped in, leaned up, and kissed him, a little less gently than planned.

"Good night," she said, and turned to go. A hand pulled her back in by the shoulder.

"What took you so long?" Spike asked. The door shut behind her.


	9. Vignette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The system breaks down.

When they first got together, there was a system. Three eight hour shifts a day (ignoring Ed and the twenty-five hour days, both of which were more trouble than they were worth), two on, one off, except when there was a bounty, or a really interesting TV show, or something important.

It was in the second week that it broke down. Jet awoke to a rushing sound. After convincing himself that it wasn't the waterfall from his dream, he got up to investigate.

Just as he suspected, a pipe in the bathroom had burst. Water was all over the floor. Jet cursed out loud as he wrenched the appropriate valve shut. He stomped off to the living room.

"Goddammit, Spike! Faye! Aren't you paying any damn-" Whatever admonition was to follow this statement was cut off by what Jet saw on the couch. Spike, who he'd always considered to be a nice, rational human being, was endeavoring to remove Faye's suspenders. Faye was kissing him anywhere she could reach, grabbing at his hair and muttering something Jet couldn't hear.

Jet didn't say anything. He went up to the engine room, gathered his tools, and fixed the pipe himself. He was in the engine room smoking when Spike came in.

"Faye go to bed?" Jet asked, offering Spike a cigarette.

He took it. "Yep." Silence.

There were a lot of things Jet wanted to say. Most of the things involved expletives, following the general "What in the hell, Spike?" theme. But when he opened his mouth, what came out was more like, "Did it have to be the couch?"

Spike thought about this for a second. "Why not the couch?"

"Hell, I don't know," Jet said, rubbing his head. "Dammit, I have to sit there!"

A wide smile spread over Spike's face. "Like you wouldn't have."

"Well, yeah, but that's not the point," Jet protested. Spike gave him a little wave and walked out. "Wait, come back here! This is not over! Spike!" Jet followed him out.


	10. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All the little pains of living... were gone."

All the little pains of living, the pinch in her neck, a phantom cramp in her foot, were gone, and she was floating.

The expanse around her was green and vast, with no horizon. She held her arms out, cruciform, and she was landing.

And then she saw him. He was sauntering over to her, perfectly at ease, cigarette dangling from his lip. The feeling of peace didn't leave her; she couldn't even feel the pain in her heart.

"You left me," she said. Her voice held no malice.

"I was already gone," he said, smirking. "You knew that, but you never listened."

"You never talked."

The cherry on the cigarette flared as he sucked in. "Well, now, it's just you and me." He reached down and took her hand. Her body offered no resistance as she rose to meet him.

He stared hard into her eyes, just like he had on the day he left her, but it didn't scare her anymore. His hand tangled in her hair, and he leaned in slowly.

She woke up crying. Jet started. He pulled her closer with his mechanical arm and kissed her forehead softly.

"It's only a dream, Faye," he said, voice gruff with sleep. "It's just you and me."

He held her until her sobs died away and her breathing calmed against his chest.


	11. Santa Elena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike plays hookey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a bus trip between Santa Elena, Guatemala, and Santa Elena, Belize.

"Where are you?"

"Santa Elena."

"Which one?"

"Number 10."

"What the hell do-" There was a muffled discussion on the other end. "We'll be there."

He lay down on the bed. The room belonged to someone who owed him no end of favors. The hunched woman at the front desk lit up for Mr. Spiegel, sir, and doesn't he want his usual room, and how long will he be staying with us, and would he like anything to drink?

The city, if you could call it that, was hardly worth noticing, a few neighborhoods cut off from the rest of Tijuana by a deep gorge. She walked into town, grey mud staining her white boots. A crowd of small, laughing girls ran around her, chattering to each other. She waved off offers of taxis, jewelry, and God knows what else. As she was passing the park, a sudden rain swept in. Faye pulled her shirt closer around her and ran for the clean white building.

He switched on the TV. Big Shot flashed the name of some bounty that wasn't worth going after. Nothing but small fry lately. There was a knock on the door, which swung open without waiting for a response.

"Buenos tardes."

"Noches. It's too late for tardes."

And then she was on him, running her hands through his hair.

"Did you get him?"

"This morning."

"Where's my share?" Faye asked, laying a closed kiss on his lips.

"I thought I'd keep it. You'll just gamble it away." This earned him a punch on the arm. "You and Jet'll get yours when we get back."

She reached up and unbuttoned her shirt. "I hear my communicator just broke."

"And the bounty just slipped through our fingers again."

"Looks like we'll be hunting for him all night."

"Again?"


	12. Superstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike faces his adoring fans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story follows three volume manga (not Shooting Star) continuity, taking place after "She's A Rainbow."

The show was a bigger deal than they'd expected. They'd watched it from the ship, Ed providing sound effects for their big chase scene. Instead of some late night dead air slot, it was on in prime time, complete with interviews of their biggest bounties.

But that had been a week ago, and life had moved on, as it was wont to do. Spike and Jet had brought in another bounty that morning, and they were sitting with Faye at a café on Mars, planning their next move and bitching at each other over the check.

A blushing teenage girl approached the table. A taller girl prodded her along, giggling.

"Mr. Spiegel, sir?" she asked timidly.

"Yeah?" Spike said, eyeing her suspiciously. This elicited a fit of giggles from both girls.

"Could I please have your autograph?" she asked, brandishing a garish pink notebook.

"And yours, Mr. Black?" the other demanded, pushing forward with her own neon notepad.

Jet shook his head and signed, looking rather embarrassed. Spike, on the other hand, signed for both girls with a flourish and a wink, and now turned to Faye with a smug grin. She rolled her eyes at him.

"You're just mad they didn't ask for yours too," he told her.

"No, I'm mad because you're acting like an idiot," Faye replied, but her jealousy was clear on her face.

"Don't worry, Faye," Spike said flippantly. "Some day you might be a star too."

They finally sorted the check and headed back from the ship. They were halfway back when a call came from behind them.

"Yoohoo! Spike!" a feminine voice shouted. Spike turned to look.

Faye growled quietly. "If another little girl is trying to get after my-"

"Your?" Jet cut her off, but whatever retort he was going to make was forgotten in his snickering.

Faye turned. A man in full drag waved at Spike, blowing him a kiss.

"Your adoring public is waiting, superstar," Faye mocked, smirking at him. Spike just glared at her.


	13. The Smoking Section

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike faces a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A missing scene from Boogie Woogie Feng Shui.

"The more righteous a guy was in his youth the more likely he's gonna fall for a young girl later in life," Faye told Spike matter-of-factly.

"Is that so?" he scoffed.

"Uh, huh," Faye replied. "Men are so predictable."

"That's not true."

"Oh yes it is. Given any situation, you can always tell what a man is going to do in response."

Spike ground out his cigarette. He never was one to back down from a challenge. He crossed the tiny room and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deeply.

"Say, ahh, was that predictable?" he asked smugly, stepping back.

Faye snorted. "I've known you were going to do that for the past five minutes," she replied, sauntering around him towards the door. "Why do you think I brought it up in the first place?"


	14. Night Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He likes the ship best at night."

He likes the ship best at night. It's quiet and calm, and nobody's awake but him. He gets to notice things that nobody else gets the chance to see. He sees Jet sleeping with a protective arm around Ed, a too-fatherly gesture for daytime.

Ein is kicking away in his sleep, growling slightly at some fearsome dream enemy. Spike bends and scratches his belly, but he doesn't wake.

And then he finds himself where he usually does in these late night walks. The door is open; she's sometimes careless like that. He wonders fleetingly if she does it on purpose, if she knows about his ritual. But he sneaks in anyway.

He looks down at her sleeping form. She's curled up in the fetal position, hugging her pillow rather than resting on it. Her slack face is somehow more serious than it ever is when she's awake. It's not until he's lost himself in the gentle rise and fall of her chest that a jolt of sorrow hits him. He wants to stay here, to stay like this.

He needs for her to know. He needs to find a way to tell her that he's stuck, that he's doomed to be between too worlds until one of them finishes them. The most she'll ever be able to have is half his love, and he needs her to know that it's not her fault.

But the words don't come tonight, just like they've failed to come every night. So he drops a kiss on her sleeping forehead and goes off to bed.


	15. Judas: Act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events take a drastic turn.

Her basic plan in life was to take the money and run. It had always served her well in the past. It kept her from getting killed over her constant debts, and since she generally took the money from people outside the law, it didn't bother the ISSP.

But this wasn't working out the way she'd intended. The plan had gone off exactly as planned. Then it was time to get her money, and of course she had to stay a night or two. Then it looked like, if she stayed for a couple days more, she could draw even more money out of him. And pretty soon, this was starting to seem like a permanent gig. She kicked herself for not being happy. It was pretty much evident that she could live out her days in luxury with little effort, and she didn't want to.

She wasn't entirely sure why her feet had led her down to the cell where Spike was being held. The plan had just sort of bubbled from nowhere. There was a guard, of course. He was dispatched with a few suggestions about what might be done involving him, her, and the bottle of wine stashed in her room.

There he was. Faye had heard the rationale for why he hadn't been killed yet at least six or seven times. Only Vicious could kill him; he was being treated more than fairly; he was offered a chance to come back, no hard feelings, and rejected it. The only truth in this seemed to her to be his treatment – his cell was a finely appointed room, one more than adequate, if barred.

He scowled when he saw her, but she held up a hand. "You know how to get out of here, right?"

Spike smirked. "If he hadn't changed the lock, I'd have been gone from here days ago."

She lifted her skirt. Spike considered whether or not to look, but she stopped at the holster on her thigh.

"You might want to move," she told him, stepping back. He scrambled out of the way as she shot the lock off. She shoved the door aside, and a klaxon started sounding from somewhere upstairs.

"Why did you-"

"No time! Just go!"

And then he drew her in and there was a kiss. Unlike the first, it was hurried and genuine and completely unexpected. Then, too soon, he broke away and dashed up the stairs.

It took her a few beats to collect herself. Then she was off behind him.


	16. Candy from a Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike's rambling thoughts.

It was good, it was very good. It was sweet, and oh, he hadn't meant to…

These things happened. Did these things happen? She'd come into his room late at night, and for once he didn't kick her out. And then he was kissing her, and touching her, and then Faye…

And she'd let him. She'd wanted it. She set herself up, and it was so easy, like candy from a baby. She put her long, thin arms around him, and kissed her way up his neck, and then he…

It was good, and it was wrong, and it was done. Was it done? He knew that it was wrong. He'd done wrong, he'd been unfaithful. He'd broken his word, and eventually he would pay. But why did it feel so right? Why was he walking around with a smile? Wasn't he going to have to…

But Spike didn't want to stop. His thoughts kept bouncing up and down, drifting all over the place. He didn't want to stop, and he didn't want to draw himself back into line. He didn't want to lose this feeling, and he was, he was… slipping?


	17. Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike gets a package, and things fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after Jupiter Jazz II, but before Speak Like A Child.

They were on Mars when it all fell apart. An anonymous man in an anonymous black suit appeared at the dock. He left a long thin box addressed to Spike in Jet's care and rushed off as if he was afraid of it. Jet looked over the package suspiciously, but nothing seemed wrong about it.

Spike was lying on the couch, attempting to nap. Faye had pushed his legs off and was sitting at the end of it, trying to find something interesting on the television.

"Package for you," Jet grunted, handing him the box.

"Hope it's food," Spike said, sitting up. He took the package and peered at the card.

"Hope it's money," Faye replied. "Looks like flowers. Who'd want to send a lunkhead like you flowers?"

Spike ignored her and lifted the top off of the box. A single white rose lay on the crumpled paper.

"For purity?" Faye said, smirking.

"For silence." He lifted the flower from its wrapping and immediately dropped it. The back side of the bloom, now exposed, was covered in a rust colored stain. He'd heard of messages like this, back when he was in the Red Dragons. Jet understood, too, and put a hand on Spike's shoulder.

Trembling, he pulled the note out from under the flower. When Spike read it, all his nightmares came true.

"Julia," he managed. "He found her first."

Faye gasped in comprehension, but Spike didn't hear her. It felt like he'd been shot in the stomach, like there was a gaping hole in him, burning his insides.

"I have to go," he said, standing up. "I have to find him." He stalked back to his room.

Faye followed. "What, now?" She was still on his heels when he entered the room. Hurriedly, he threw on his coat and shoes. Next was the overcoat, still packed with grenades and extra ammunition.

"It's a summons," Spike told her. "Vicious killed her, and now I have to settle with him, once and for all."

"Don't go," Faye half-shouted. "It's probably just a trap. It doesn't have to be like this."

He rounded on her. "This is how it ends," he told her. "This is the way it goes, and you or I can't stop it. You knew it would come down to me and Vicious."

She shook her head tiredly. "You stupid, stupid bastard."

There was too much to tell her, but he found himself unable to breathe, much less speak. He wanted her to know everything, but there were no words. Spike had played the scenario out in his head a dozen times- how to tell her, what to say, just how to explain- but he wasn't expecting this.

He leaned forward and kissed her. It was desperate and quick, and he knew instantly that it was wrong. Spike didn't even know why he'd tried.

She broke away and slapped him hard, but he could barely feel it. "Get the hell out," Faye said, running out of the room. He heard her collapse in the hallway, sobbing. Spike didn't try to comfort her when he left. Jet didn't try to stop him, only nodded sadly as he passed. He gave a little wave and left the ship for good.


	18. Defence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faye and Spike visit a fence on Mars.

"Martin LaRue," Jet said, laying a picture on the table. "Alias Theo, Shifty, and Gerald." Faye made a non-committal noise and continued buffing her nails. Spike stretched and yawned, nodding his approval.

"My contact with the ISSP got me the rundown on this guy," Jet told them. "He's gone underground, but he's got a confidant: a fence on Mars, goes by Vinn. Been in and out of jail for possession of stolen goods, but always ends up turning state's evidence."

"Sounds like our man," Spike replied.

"One problem," Jet added, "the ISSP has lost track of him. He picks up and moves every few months, and he slipped through the last time."

Meanwhile, Ed had been typing on her computer, waving her arms and singing at it. "Ed has found him!" she said joyously, launching into a song and leading Ein into a dance.

"Spike, you go," Jet said, "and take Faye with you."

"Why do I have to go?" Faye complained, trying to pry Ed from her leg.

Jet laughed. "Leverage, what else?" Faye gave him a withering glance.

-

The place wasn't easy to find, but it wasn't supposed to be. It was down a flight of stairs from the street, behind a rusted out grate. Spike banged on it, and a man appeared.

"Cops?" he asked, peering at them.

"Bounty hunters," Spike replied. "You Vinn?"

"You want info, guns, or ammo?"

"First one, unless you're running a special," he said sardonically.

"I'm your man," he replied, pulling back the grate. "Step into my office."

The shop was dingy and full of obviously expensive and obviously stolen computer equipment. Stepping over a fallen computer, Spike found himself facing a desk covered in food wrappers and cups of cold coffee. Vinn situated himself behind it. Spike laid out the situation. The man listened carefully, nodding and tapping his fingers together.

"I'll give you the information you want," Vinn said when he was finished, "but I want something."

"How much?" Spike asked.

"Just a kiss," he replied, leering at Faye. Spike's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward as if to give the rat-like man a piece of his mind, but found himself being restrained by Faye.

"My pleasure," she said seductively, planting a long kiss on his lips.

A devious smile spread across the man's face. "And a hundred thousand woolongs." Now it was Spike's turn to hold Faye back.

-

They emerged from Vinn's den poorer but wiser. Faye had a smug smile on her face that Spike was doing his damnedest to ignore. In the end, he settled for glaring at her.

"Somebody got jealous," Faye said in a sing-song voice. Uncharacteristically, Spike didn't have a come-back. He didn't want to admit that she was right. Something about seeing that sleazy man with his lips all over Faye infuriated him.

"I think somebody's got a little crush," she goaded him.

"I think somebody's imagining things," he replied. Was she right?

"Spi-ke likes me," she sang into his ear, doing a silly little dance. Whether or not it was true, it was getting annoying, and Faye showed no signs of stopping.

Spike sighed. It was going to be a very long walk back to the ship.


	19. Love The One You're With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Eve on the Bebop.

The champagne had cost more than they could afford, but right then, nobody cared. Ed fiddled gleefully with an old radio Doohan had given Spike. Cheerful music blared, just the right thing for a celebration such as this.

They watched the television eagerly, waiting for the signal. At the stroke of midnight, a cheer went up. Ed picked up the happily barking Ein and danced him around the room. Without a second thought, Spike grabbed Faye and kissed her full on the lips. It was simple, and it didn't need to be explained or accounted for. It happened, and then the moment was gone. Faye smiled.

"Happy New Year, Spike."

"Happy New Year, Faye."


	20. The Inevitable Shower Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An objective observer would point out that it takes place in a bathtub.

There was no more hot water. That is how the trouble started, no matter how any of the participants feel about it.

Spike Spiegel, clad only in a towel, stomped through the ship, cursing all women and all ships with two bathing facilities to the deepest bowels of hell.

He shoved the door of the other bathroom open and was almost immediately confronted by a wall of fragrance. It was sweet and acrid at once- gardenia? But that's not what stopped him dead in his tracks.

Faye Valentine, clad in nothing but water and bubbles, sat very placidly in the bathtub of the larger bathroom.

She washed one long, thin arm, then the next, followed by a thorough cleansing of the neck and chest region (too thorough, an objective observer might say). A rousing scrub of the hair followed, accompanied by much dunking of her head under the water.

Spike Spiegel watched, out of horror at her wanton waste of water (an objective observer might say that he watched because the bubbles had dissipated). Then, to his chagrin (or delight), she let the stopper out of the tub and stood. What bubbles that remained slid easily down her sleek, wet form. She made as if to turn for something, then turned back and bent to examine the stopper.

As she straightened, Faye Valentine turned and blew a kiss at the back of the retreating Spike Spiegel (an objective observer might say that she had planned it all along).


	21. Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike stops and thinks.

Sometimes when he looks at her, he doesn't see her. He sees a floozy, a good-time girl. It's not as if she doesn't look the part in that ridiculous yellow get-up she's always wearing. An evil, creeping part of him says that it's all a show, all a ruse to make him come nearer, like a moth to a flame.

Sometimes he thinks if he just leaned over and kissed her, nothing would go wrong. He thinks he could just carry her off to his room and have his way, and nothing would be amiss.

But then he sees the jacket. It's not just the jacket, though. It's the way she pulls it up over her shoulders as if it's the only thing in the world that can protect her. It's a flashing red warning sign, screaming that there is a real, complicated person here.

Nothing could ever be simple with Faye. She's weird, clashing, contradictory, all this red on yellow, modest on cheap. And sometimes, when he sees the whole, he doesn't know what to do with himself.


	22. Disconnect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowing, doing, and relating are three very different things.

She is sitting, appropriately, in a coffee bar. Spike knew she'd be in a place like this. It's never anything but bounty hunters and cops in these places. Everybody else knows the stuff will kill you. The bounty hunters and the cops, they know that everything will.

Her food is half-finished, but discarded. A glance tells him why. Typical of places like this, he can't tell what any of it is. He picks a piece of probable pork off and eats it. She ignores him.

She knows that he is watching as she picks through today's mots croisés (that phrase comes unbidden when she thinks of them- does she speak French?). She wants to be alone, but says nothing. With that one, being with him is just like being alone.

There's something untouchable about Faye. She's incongruous, ephemeral, but concrete and profane in the purest sense. He thinks he could be next to her, be beside her, be inside her, and still not understand.

Spike agitates her, especially today. She isn't fond of being forcibly reminded of her past, what little of it there is. And now… Whitney was always something she could cling to, something that belonged to her. She could hold him up and say, "This is my story. This is my love." But now it's gone.

She wants to cling to Spike, but she knows that she can't. It would be like keeping darkness in a bottle or trying to catch a flame. Spike is unreachable, fleeting. He is something else, something that can't fill her loneliness or help her grief. She understands that.

When Spike wordlessly drops a kiss on her unnoticing head and walks out, that is when she realizes that she understands nothing.


	23. a last even of last times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the sound of inevitability.

"Faye?" He's lying on his side, facing out at the room.

She's almost asleep when he says it, all languid and worn out from their frenetic lovemaking. It happens every so often; the tension builds and builds until it explodes, till they can't help but come together.

"Faye," he says again, and it's not a question.

"Mmm?" She's halfway hoping he'll tell her that he's going back to his own bed, because it's starting to get uncomfortable.

"My name is Michael."

"What?"

"My real name. It's Michael. I never told anyone before." Something unclenches inside him, something he didn't even know was tense.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I get the feeling I'm not going to be here much longer."

"You're not going to die," she says, kissing him between his shoulder blades. "Don't be so melodramatic."

He closes his eyes, pretending not to notice when she slips her arm around him and holds him tight.

Faye huddles close to him, trying to will herself to sleep. She needs to believe he is invincible, because without that, she doesn't know how much she has left.


	24. One More Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She comes in almost every night.

She comes in almost every night. Something about the way she walks, the way she carries herself, looks broken.

She's terribly pretty, or at least she used to be. It's hard to tell which sometimes. She's a whore for attention, chatting up any man who comes near, letting them get her drunk and bore her for hours, yet she never leaves with one.

Then a song comes on the radio, one that hasn't been popular for five, maybe six years. She's frozen, transfixed. Then the tears start. This happens almost every time she's in. No one notices anymore. The bartender used to think it was an act, another way to get attention, but now he just feels sorry for her and switches the station.

She told him once a story about a tiger-striped cat and a little dog. It died, but couldn't leave the earth. The little dog fell in love with it, but pretended to hate it. Then one day, the cat disappeared, and the dog discovered she'd be cursed with the same fate. He didn't understand, but it kept him up at night.

Round about closing time, a big guy, imposing, always comes in for her. The bartender goes for his bat, instinctively. He has the look about him of abusive boyfriend or father. But without fail, she throws her arms around him and sobs. He kisses her on the head and pats her back gently.

The world keeps changing, but it's just the same old song for them.


	25. The Way We Weren't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, and Spike feels like he's won.

When he falls off his bar stool laughing at something Shin says, Spike finally has to admit he's drunk, drunker than he's been in a long while.

Gren is up on stage, wailing away on that damn horn again. It's some real happy tune; Gren's a happy sort of guy these days. There's not much to be unhappy about; war's over, and, miracle of miracles, they're off that rock alive.

Vicious is in the corner, chatting up some girl. Spike almost goes over, but decides at last to stay. He's not entirely sure he can get over there without making an ass of himself; besides, blondes have never really been his type anyway.

But the girl at the bar next to him- now that's a different story. She's got on a long yellow sundress, cut down low and slit up high, one long stocking-covered leg crossed over the other. She gives him a suggestive, knowing smile.

Vicious walks out with the blonde, who's kissing his neck, and gives Spike his patented "Don't wait up" smirk. Spike raises his whiskey to him and turns back to the girl.

Her name is Faye, she says, running her hands through her short purple hair. She's a sort of gypsy, making her own way through the stars. There's something beautiful about that, Spike thinks. She says she's a bounty hunter, has this big partner, ex-ISSP, and she's got an old boat they bum around in. It isn't much, she says, but it pays the bills. After the army, Spike thinks it sounds mighty fine.

Last call rolls around. He gulps down the rest of his whiskey, and, stumbling, they laugh their way out of the bar. She says, in between furtive kisses in darkened doorways, that she'll introduce him to her partner. If he lets Spike on, they can ship out whenever he likes. Spike doesn't know if it's the liquor or his mood, but he doesn't even care if she's lying. He's far past ready to be up and gone.

He knows he'll probably wake up next morning with a splitting headache and all his money gone, but for once, he's too good and high and fine to care. He just lets Faye lead him on, and damn the consequences.


	26. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little respite before it all goes wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in that oh-so-iconic scene in Boogie Woogie Feng Shui when Spike and Faye have been kicked out to smoke by the water. How I love that scene.

There are moments of peace between them. It's not exactly a cease fire, not just a détente.

The waves lap against the pier. Spike passes Faye his lighter; her face is haloed for just a moment. She passes it back, and there is silence.

It's a kind of communion, really. The smoke rises softly into the air, drifting quietly out to sea.

Later, the sea seems to whisper, much later. Later, there will be screaming and tears and kisses that burn. There is always time, it says, always, always time.

Faye's cigarette is finished first. She drops it and grinds it into the wood, singeing the scarred dock. Yet, she doesn't move, somehow transfixed.

Spike slides another cigarette out of his pocket and hands it to her. She lights it, and the sun slowly sets.


	27. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after the end.

Spike's broken body looked so very small cradled in Jet's huge arms. He lay the lifeless form out in Spike's old room, now curiously cold and empty.

Faye sat outside the doorway to the tiny room as if she'd been ordered. Her eyes were still red and swollen, but she had no more tears to cry.

There was a cemetery, a meager little place where it always seemed to be raining. It wasn't easy on short notice, but Jet still had some strings to pull.

There wasn't anything left to do, nothing left to say. The undertakers would be there any moment to collect the body. Faye, somehow more terrified of the clean, officious men than the broken shell of the man she very nearly loved, pressed a kiss to the cold expanse of his forehead and left the Bebop, never to return.

Jet stood under a borrowed black umbrella, rain soaking up through the cuffs of his only good suit. There was nothing left to do but shake his head and walk away, a long cigarette littering the grave like an offering. He headed back to the one thing he had left, right back where he'd started from.


	28. Counterplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike can't afford to lose.

If Spike had a calendar, he'd have put three heavy rings around the date. He'd want it to leap out, to flash every time he saw it.

But Spike doesn't keep appointments, so he just remembers it as the day Faye stopped trying.

He watches Faye intently, marking the little differences that shout that she's not his. She positively flirts with Jet; it ain't new, but now she's doing it all the time, not even having the good taste to pretend it's because she wants money.

She even goes on a date (how dare she!) with some guy who picks her up in a club. She doesn't come back till morning, his dark glasses on, smelling like smoke and sex. The worst part- it isn't a scam, or a swindle, or even in search of a lead. She just does what she wants, and damn the consequences.

And worst of all, she's nice, damned nice to him. Doesn't fight him, doesn't argue, doesn't give him that "I hate you because you make me want you" face even one time. And little by little, it starts to eat him up.

Nobody ever accused Spike of being a good man. Nobody, except perhaps Julia, who half the time he's wishing would just die (the other half, he's wishing he would), who always was a little crazy anyway. And if he's anything, he's one jealous bastard, and right about now, he doesn't care who knows.

In a desperation born out of can't-have-her-no-one-will rage and half a fifth of liquid courage, he finds her in a godforsaken corner of the ship. Spike slams her into the wall, one unrelenting hand on her chest, kissing her so hard it's even hurting him. She doesn't make a sound, both arms groping out to find the seams in the bulkhead, trying to hang on for dear life.

Then she just dissolves, sinking a good inch as her knees give. And in that instant, she's not thinking about the sharp pain in her back or that prick she fucked or his whiskey breath. All she's thinking is please, more, don't, can't, won't stop, and Spike knows she's his for good.

He leaves her lips and sucks at her neck hard, too hard, past pleasure and on into pain, and she just wants more, as if she needs one more fucked up association to him. Faye's practically shoving her breasts into his vicious hands as if it's the only thing keeping her from falling- aside from his knee grinding too hard into her groin, it probably is.

The whispered, frantic moaning coming from her mouth reverberates around the corridor, coming back to his ears in weird snatches, and to his power-drunken ears, it sounds like a hymn. He could lose himself to this, he realizes, and that's what makes him pull away suddenly.

Spike just leaves her there- dizzy, wet, breathless- and stalks off. It's her move, but it doesn't matter. The only way to win is not to play the game.


	29. Rainbirds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes he knows what she's thinking before she does."

Sometimes he knows what she's thinking before she does. She'll turn him to say something and find her idea right there on his face. Sometimes they just fit together, like finger and trigger or the easy slide of a kiss.

Two is just the way he moves: with Vicious, with Julia, with Jet. It's foreign to her- she's been a loner since she can remember. It's just against her nature to trust someone else to lead. Spike, though, knows just how to draw her out, and for a few brief moments, they're bigger than they are.

And it is these times, this communion, that make all the hassle, every single fight, worthwhile.


	30. Judas: Act III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Faye make their break.

His ship was gassed and waiting, with only one flimsy chain that the gun made short work of. So, of course, they took one of Vicious's; he would have expected no less.

The cockpit was tiny compared to what she was used to. Her body was pressed up against Spike's, his hands moving against her as he worked the controls, her back cold against the glass of the cockpit.

"Y'know, I could fly a lot better without your breasts in my face," he deadpanned.

"Oh, excuse me, I'll go sit on the wing."

Once they reached the Gate, there was no further attempt to follow them; Faye put it down to Vicious's twisted idea of fair play. They passed the ride without speaking, Spike leaning back from the controls and whistling, Faye just staring out at the stars.

Spike sat the craft down on a dusty piece of nothing, turning on the distress signal.

"So what happens now?" Faye asked him, sitting on the ship's wing, her feet dangling.

Spike, scanning the sky, didn't look at her. "I guess we just go home." His voice was level, but the implications obvious.

She slid down off the wing, walking softly up behind him and putting her arms around his waist. He turned, catching her lips with his.

There was a long, slow moment between them before Faye finally pulled away. "Of course, we'll have to talk about my cut."


End file.
